


Until Our Marrows Mix

by ab2fsycho



Series: Get the Chip Off Your Shoulder [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Human!Bill, Knife Kink, M/M, Sequel, getting back together sex, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "The One That Got Away"</p><p>Just how much did serial killer Bill Cipher miss his detective?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Our Marrows Mix

The second the door to Dipper's place was closed, Jeff was gone. Bill dropped the persona so swiftly Dipper barely had time to react. Bill was pushing him up against the wall and immediately covering Dipper's lips with his. A breathlessness came over him as the last bit of breath stole from his lungs and he couldn't even think to push Bill back enough to get some air. No, instead Dipper was holding him closer and running his hands through Bill's tangled hair.

He gasped as Bill shoved his thigh between Dipper's legs, Bill's teeth finding Dipper's neck and leaving combined nips and kisses on his throat. Dipper's chest heaved as he struggled to regain some breath, hands shoving the jacket off the other's shoulders. He had to suck in a few breaths before asking, “Sure you don't want a drink first?”

Bill laughed in his ear, the sound dark and mirthful. It occurred to Dipper just how dangerous this was. It wasn't so much the thought of getting caught (which was unlikely here in his hometown), or the thought that Bill might hurt him. No, it wasn't the danger of the situation but the danger of the individual. Bill himself was very, very dangerous and that knowledge was enough to make a sheen of sweat pour over his skin and dear God, Bill was only just getting started with him.

One of Bill's hands reached up to caress the scar he'd left on Dipper's face. Staring intently at the triangle and eye that had been carved into Dipper's cheek, Bill asked, “Do people comment on this often?”

He shook his head at first. “They stare, though.”

Something snapped in Bill's gaze and Dipper actually felt a trickle of fear going down his spine. Suddenly Bill thrust his thigh upward, drawing another gasp from Dipper as he snarled, “I should dismember them.”

“No. No, you shouldn't,” Dipper quickly retorted as Bill used his thigh to drive him up the wall (in more ways than one), Dipper forced to clutch his shoulders as the last parts of his feet touching the ground were his toes.

“It's very rude to stare, Dip. Especially at something that is quite clearly marked as mine,” Bill said, hands sliding down Dipper's torso to clutch his hips while a possessive kiss was placed on his cheek.

“So it's a mark of ownership, now?” Dipper asked, a red flag going up in the back of his mind.

“Do you consider yourself one of my victims? I know the media does.”

Dipper's answer came out less sarcastic and more of a challenge. “Not yet.”

Another sinister laugh, this one shooting chills over Dipper's skin. “Let's remedy that.”

His mind was screaming 'danger' all over again, but he couldn't have said no if he wanted to. He definitely didn't want to. Bill backed off of Dipper and pulled him a few more steps into the home before pushing him down onto the ground. Judging by the way Bill was acting, it was a miracle they'd even made it past the threshold. Bill covered Dipper's body with his, thigh replaced with a kneading hand. Dipper's eye shot wide and his back arched. “Slow down, slow down,” he panted, unsure he could keep up with this quick pace. Then there it was: the familiar pout that Bill used to give him whenever Dipper broke off a kiss. After spending a year without that look directed at him, he found that he was more than willing to accommodate for it this time around. “Okay, don't stop. Just . . . don't go as quickly.”

Bill listened for maybe a minute, sliding his hands up Dipper's shirt and tracing the contours of his torso. Dipper moaned and keened while Bill's fingers reintroduced themselves to his skin, steadily lifting the shirt as they moved. Bill's lips were on Dipper's again, tongue delving into his mouth and forcing it open. The next thing Dipper knew, Bill was using his knees to spread Dipper's legs apart before grinding his pelvis into the other man's. Dipper's heart sped, skipping a few beats as Bill's mouth suddenly found its way to his neck again. His hot breath on Dipper's sensitive skin combined with the movement of their hips practically made him melt into the floor and forget his desire to go slower. All thoughts fled and dissipated, even the ones screaming for him to get out while he could.

The grinding stopped as Bill pushed Dipper's shirt over his head before sitting up slightly and removing his own clothing quickly and effortlessly. Meanwhile, Dipper struggled just to pull his arms out of the sleeves. As Bill was pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, Dipper's hands found themselves on the other's bare waist. Bill unleashed an almost feral growl as Dipper's fingers trailed over him, shirt getting stuck on his head. When Dipper realized the other was having no success pulling the shirt off, he adjusted Bill on his lap so he could sit up and help him. “Fucking glasses!” Bill grumbled, and Dipper found himself laughing at the familiarity of the situation. While Bill had not had glasses before, this sort of exclamation had not been uncommon. It also had not been uncommon for Dipper to be the one to fix it.

“Just hold still,” Dipper said, relieving Bill of the shirt as easily as possible while the man was still fighting.

Once it and the glasses were off, Dipper didn't have time to cringe at the predatory look Bill gave him before the man was forcing him back on the ground. Dipper's eyes went wide as Bill's mouth returned to teasing his throat, his fingers finding the buttons on Dipper's pants and furiously working them open. Before Dipper could blink, his pants and underwear were sliding down just enough to expose his now throbbing member. In mere seconds Bill was similarly undone and they were rutting against each other, Dipper's breathing growing hoarse and whines growing in pitch. Bill made no move to silence him, instead shoving both hands into Dipper's hair and watching his expressions with half lidded eyes. With Dipper's hands clutching at his back, they bucked and thrust until the warmth in their abdomens tightened and shifted and then pooled out between them. Dipper's head fell back, mouth hanging open as he struggled to draw in air. Bill's lips pressed to the side of his face, lingering there for a long while before he fully collapsed on top of Dipper.

They stayed like that for a good long while, skin tingling as they gasped for air. Their hands stayed glued to each other, as if one of them might up and disappear. When they regained some of their senses, their lips met again but not with as much force as before. This time Dipper could both feel and convey the words 'I missed you' with each movement, and it didn't feel as rushed and frantic as before.

Suddenly they had the time to pick up where they'd left off and figure out where to go from there.

\--

“Will you stay a while?”

“As long as you'll have me.”

Those were dangerous terms, because if Dipper had any say in it he wouldn't let Bill out of his sight. Not again. It seemed Bill was in agreement with him, because as soon as he had Dipper alone he was just as unwilling to give him up.

He was glad the townspeople didn't even suspect that Jeff might be Bill, Bill maintaining his cover expertly. Dipper was afraid that as soon as people saw them together, something would click with someone. That was inevitably going to be the case with Mabel, who he would have to face about this eventually. He was certain he could talk her down, however.

Bill gave the appearance of being just as easy to talk down, but Dipper wasn't so sure he was able sometimes. He thought this because their first night out, Bill didn't like the short remarks the waiter at the restaurant made towards Dipper. Dipper had watched as he date tried discreetly picking up a knife and Dipper just as subtly had to pull it from his white knuckled grasp. Later Bill said it was just a scare tactic he'd picked up many years ago. Dipper said he needed to curb the habit.

Of course, the universe had a habit of laughing in Dipper's face every time he thought he was going to be happy. Later that week, he received a phone call from his own precinct asking him for professional input. As it turns out, another series of murders had cropped up in the same area. Much to Dipper's chagrin, the victims' bodies bore the symbol that had come to be associated with the Illuminati Killer.

Dipper knew it wasn't Bill long before the other man had responded in a snarky tone, “Don't look at me. I've been here the whole time.”

Dipper sighed, ready to face plant on the table. Instead, he just rubbed his temples with both hands. “They want me to fly in and look at the information they've gotten, maybe view some cadavers. I just wish they could send me pictures and I could just do it here.” Opening his eyes slightly to look at his previously lost partner, Dipper sighed and asked, “And you swear you haven't done anything suspicious? Not even double parking?”

Bill smirked. “I'm a serial jaywalker.”

Dipper couldn't help but grin back. “Is there anything you can tell me about your methods that might distinguish the copy cat from you?” Bill quirked an eyebrow and he chuckled. Dipper rolled his eyes. “It's not like I'm pinning the guy, I'm trying to get you out of the precinct's sights.”

“I know,” Bill murmured, “but you already know everything about me.”

He sighed again and shook his head. “But I'm not you. I need to be in your head for a moment. Can you muster up, I don't know, something?”

Bill leaned forward on the table, a mischievous look playing across his face as he explained, “Look at the cut. What blade was used? I only ever used one. What's the placement? I don't know if you notice, but I have a very specific way of cutting.” He reached across to touch his thumb to the scar on Dipper's face, tracing the lines as he whispered, “I start at the corner of the eye, move toward the earlobe, across the cheek, then complete the triangle. I always start closest to the eye and wind up coming back to it.” He looked sad as he finished tracing the scar, Dipper watching him carefully as the former killer dropped his hand to cover Dipper's. “You'll be able to tell if that's what he did. The first cut is always deepest.”

He nodded. “Benefits of being a living model of your work, I guess.” Bill's hand went limp on his and Dipper quickly amended, “I'm sorry. I just—”

“No it's,” Bill stopped, pursing his lips, “it's the truth.”

“That doesn't mean it was right.”

“It's funny how the victim's apologizing to the perpetrator.” Bill actually did smile at that.

Against his better judgment, so was Dipper. “Well, I don't wanna be rude.”

Bill's smile broadened. “Go get 'em. Come home. I'll be here waiting with your,” his eyebrows wiggled, “punishment.”

Dipper managed to keep a straight face even as his cheeks heated up. “You promise?”

“That I'll punish you?” His grin turned wicked.

“That you'll be here.”

Bill's wickedness faltered as he leaned across and kissed Dipper's forehead. Squeezing his hand, he whispered against the birthmark he was once (and probably still was) so fond of, “I promise.”

\--

Dipper had picked apart the investigation, easily pointing out the flaws in the copy. He'd also been somewhat an object for examination, and that was more than a little bothersome. He was happy to get back home.

Granted, as soon as he walked through the door to his home, he was startled by a Bill who was just a little too excited to see him again. How did he know this? Dipper had been forced against the wall with a knife to his throat.

At first, he was utterly horrified. Did Bill think he'd turned him over? Dipper had news for him, he sure as hell wouldn't be here if that were the case. What was Bill doing? And why did his stomach flip in that manner? The heart racing was to be expected, but that feeling . . . oh, he knew what that was.

So did Bill apparently, the man leaning over and locking lips with Dipper as he left the blade in place. Pulling away just a fraction, Dipper would have sought out Bill’s lips more if not for the knife keeping him right where he was. “I missed you,” Bill whispered against his lips.

Dipper actually smiled slightly in response. “I see.”

His heart still fluttering, it stopped altogether when Bill gave him an almost maniacal grin. “I see you like my greeting.” A hand cupped Dipper’s groin as both became aware of the hardness growing in his pants. “Maybe I should make a point of meeting you at the door like this at least . . . three times a week?” Bill pecked the scars on Dipper’s cheek. “That sound reasonable?”

Dipper was panting, Bill massaging him through his jeans. “You promise?” he asked.

He didn’t think it possible, but it was. Bill grinned even wider. “So eager.” The hand left Dipper’s core to float up under his shirt. Bill’s hand rested on Dipper’s stomach, which moved along with his chest in an effort to keep up with his lack of air. Bill looked utterly territorial, a predator sizing up his prey. Dipper was two seconds away from begging to be eaten. “I see you’d like to play.”

“Damn straight.”

All the menacing was doing wonders to Dipper’s stomach. “Then I suggest you follow my instructions very carefully.” The knife’s edge bit into his neck slightly and Dipper held his breath. “If you comply, this will feel good for the both of us.”

In all honesty, Dipper was already feeling incredible.


End file.
